


Questions

by Doranwen



Category: The Giver Series - Lois Lowry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3. From this moment you are exempted from rules governing rudeness.  You may ask any question of any citizen and you will receive answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



> Brainstorming and beta help thanks to thinkatory from #yuletide. I couldn't have done it without her.

Jonas studied the short list of rules. His eyes kept straying to the third rule. Could he really ask anything? His mind filled with echoes of future questions waiting to be asked. Rule #4 stopped him cold, however. If he could not discuss his training, how could he ask the questions he really wanted to ask? The conundrum plagued his mind as he slipped into bed and attempted to fall asleep. He was only able to relax when he had finally made his decision. Time would reveal whether it was a wise one or not.

* * *

"If I were to tell you something, something private, would you keep it a secret? Keep it private between just us? Not telling anyone else, even if they ask?"

Asher tried to not stare at his best friend. "Secret" was a meaningless word (and wasn't that ironic, to think that **Jonas** , not Asher, was being imprecise with language!). There was no need to have anything private to oneself only, or between oneself and a friend. What could Jonas possibly be thinking?

"All right," he said, not understanding what he was accepting. Fiona, next to him, nodded in response, her eyes betraying the uncertainty she felt.

As Jonas attempted to describe what being the Receiver involved, Asher just gazed at him. What did stories of the past have to do with his life?

Fiona frowned a little, thinking.

* * *

"Do you remember your first Stirrings? What was it like?"

Asher started at the rude question, but his training kicked in and he answered Jonas. He struggled to remember the dream he'd had, of playing tag with one of their classmates, tripping and falling over with her, bringing their bodies close. He grasped at words to express it; Jonas's eyes spoke their understanding.

The suggestion that Stirrings might actually be welcomed and not suppressed, though, shocked Asher to the core. He had always **tried** to do what he was told, if not always successfully. But now temptation was never far from his mind's grasp. One day he found himself slipping the pill into a pocket, instead of swallowing it. He let it fall through his fingers into the river as he gazed over the water, seated on the riverbank with legs dangling down. He tried not to think about it; he wasn't sure if he could actually lie to the face of his parents or any of his teachers.

But the dream came back that night. Asher soon found that he **could** , indeed, lie, when asked if he dreamed. The unsettled feeling that thought brought him balanced out the pleasure of the dream. Had he made the right choice? How would it all end up? He couldn't answer those questions, and that bothered him more than anything else.

* * *

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we could choose more things?"

Fiona tried not to show how baffled the question left her. She listened to Jonas's explanations of color, fingering her hair curiously. She clearly didn't have the seeing-beyond; she wondered what it was like.

But choose? What was there to choose? Assignments? She tried to imagine working somewhere besides the House of the Old and failed. She studied Jonas carefully. If he had not been selected to be the next Receiver of Memory, what would he have done, if he could have chosen a job? The thought of his choosing the wrong one filled her with anxiety.

Even more frightening was the thought of choosing one's mate. Perhaps people could be guided to choose the jobs that would match their abilities and passions. But to match with another person required a thorough understanding of both people. How could two people ever manage to select each other appropriately? Choice was definitely **not** safe. So why did the thought of it bring a tiny bit of eagerness along with the fear?

* * *

"Do you know what release really is?"

Asher offered the pat answers he had been schooled in, the theories of being sent Elsewhere. It had never concerned him. Now, faced with the other things in his life that he knew to be false, he dreaded hearing the answer.

Fiona explained the process she was being trained in, concluding with her sense of unease. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what bothered her about it, but something didn't feel right, hadn't felt right since she quit taking her pill.

Jonas closed his eyes tightly, opening them to reveal a shimmery gaze. Haltingly, he began to detail what the process meant. At the end, a few tears had escaped his eyes.

Asher stared in shock. It couldn't be true. It made so much sense, but yet . . . it couldn't be true. The community wouldn't kill people like that, he told himself. He shook his head, attempting to clear the impossible from his mind, and bid goodbye to Jonas. By the time he was home, he had almost convinced himself that it was all made up.

As Jonas talked, Fiona's slight frown changed to a parted mouth frozen in place, accompanied by trembly hands and tears sliding down cheeks. Jonas reached his arms out and folded her in; she gripped the back of his tunic in her hands, gasping for breath as she tried to recover her composure. How could she have been a part of this? How could she have injected another human being with poison? She choked out her questions in between sniffles; Jonas attempted to reassure her.

As her sobs dwindled away, Jonas quietly outlined the plan. Fiona nodded. She would do whatever she had to. Because she could never, ever kill again.

* * *

Jonas slipped out of his dwelling with Gabriel in his arms. He settled the little boy in the child seat and noiselessly walked the bicycle around dark corners, lurking as far from the external lights as possible. He longed to say goodbye to The Giver, to Asher, to Fiona. It wasn't possible, not if he was going to get himself and Gabriel as far away as possible before anyone found out. They would understand, particularly Fiona. She would understand the horror of "releasing" Gabriel. He didn't expect to ever see The Giver again; the man was very old, and once he finished his task, he would release himself. But Fiona, maybe even Asher . . . Jonas dared to hope. Hope was all he had now.


End file.
